


Ruin and Redemption

by WellofHavok



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Catholic Guilt, FTM Matt Murdock, Fratt is here but it is a, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Support Systems, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellofHavok/pseuds/WellofHavok
Summary: In the wake of "The Snap," Hell's Kitchen sees its devil return full-time. He's here to recover the heart of His city, to bring it back from the brink and hold it together just long enough for him to get some answers without a question as to who would or could do the same for him.As far as He or anyone else is concerned, Matt Murdock fell with half of the world. The only way he's coming back is with his loved ones in hand.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Marci Stahl, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Domino Fall

It was the start of a new world.

They ended up calling the firm “Nelson and Murdock” sans Page at Karen’s insistence and the eventual agreement that putting a reporter’s name on a law firm wasn’t the best idea for business. She may not have been working at the Bulletin anymore, but her more loyal readers knew they’d be able to find her on the successor to  _ Trish Talk _ sometime that fall. That was enough for Foggy to know that she still saw her worth there.

That was what this was all about. They were partners, all three of them. They had an equal say in how things were run, and no leg of their triangle was more important than another. Daredevil didn’t rest squarely on Matt’s shoulders just as the firm didn’t weigh down on Foggy and Karen no longer felt so alone in her self-destructive search for the truth.

So they set down the boxes they’d carried up into their old, new office and Foggy clapped as he straightened out the plaque he still had to properly adhere to the door.

“A temporary solution,” he said, “but much better than the original.”

“I don’t know,” Karen chimed. “I think the cardboard had character.”

“Come on, Matt didn’t dig that out of the trash and hide it in his closet to cry over when he was hit with an especially strong burst of catholic guilt just for you to stomp over his little heart like that.”

“Okay- wow,” Matt laughed anyway, putting his hand out. “Whoever said anything about crying?”

“Let the record show, Karen, that he does not deny the catholic guilt.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, counselor. I think you led the defendant into that one…”

“I don’t know what kangaroo court I walked into, but I was looking for the touching reunion between my friends and I. So, if you could calmly redirect me?”

Karen and Foggy laughed together, their voices a beautiful chorus that Matt could only smile upon hearing.

Then the song cut out.

Matt’s smile wavered for a minute before he allowed himself to frown.

When neither of them spoke, there was a moment Matt didn’t dare to make another noise for fear that he wouldn’t hear it. Had he suddenly gone deaf? After everything he’d been through and the plans they’d made, he’d lost his hearing again?

It was everything he could do not to immediately break down at the thought. That wouldn’t be productive, and he didn’t want Foggy and Karen to see him like that. First, he decided to reach out with his other senses to find what he could “see” of the room, and couldn’t find either of them anywhere. He couldn’t smell Karen’s perfume or Foggy’s cologne, nor could he hear their clothing or their breathing.

He couldn’t hear their heartbeats.

A strangled noise escaped him, and Matt stopped when it did because he knew too well what the difference was between the dull imagination of what his voice sounded like versus hearing it with his own ears. He could hear, so why couldn’t he hear them?

“Foggy? Karen?” he asked, his voice pitching up to a shout as he spun about the office.

It was still the office.

Dully, he realized he’d forgotten where he was without Karen or Foggy there. He wished he’d been teleported to some strange location rather than the obvious: Karen and Foggy had disappeared right in front of him.

He subconsciously tried to reach out, turning down the restraints he’d put on his powers to instead hear and smell and taste anything he could for an answer as to what had happened, and he got one. His answer was delivered in the form of shattered cries that raked down his spine like the tail of a whip.

“Dylan? Dylan quit fucking around,” a woman yelled, her footsteps fading in and out as if she was pacing in a circle. “This isn’t funny! I only turned around for a minute- where did you go!?”

A man’s voice cut over hers, “Alica!? Alica-  _ honey!?” _

Then, below it all, behind the louder cries for help, there was a soft, young voice, “Mommy, my hands are all tingly…”

And then, in the same place the boy’s voice had emanated from, a sharp wail brought Matt to flinch and fall back against the wall of the firm, his hand coming up to rake through his hair before threading over his mouth. What had happened to Foggy and Karen? What sight had that mother witnessed that he’d been spared?

As he sank back against the office wall, the cries closed in. They seemed to get louder, but maybe Matt was still just reaching out in the hopes that he’d hear a cause or a threat in the area. He wanted to know who did this. He wanted to know what had happened.

His hands inched forward on the tile, scrambling for something to hold onto as the noise became too much to bear. Senses overloaded and fried, Matt almost couldn’t hear anything over his own pulse in his ears. Then his fingers brushed a soft, silty texture. It ran through his fingers and reminded him of when he’d helped his father clean up and repair one of the sandbags at the gym. His hands had so easily passed through the grains.

That was before his senses had been boosted. Now each piece of sand or dust or whatever was on his hands caught like fire on his pores, not helping to ground him as he sank his teeth into his lower lip to avoid screaming.

His shoulders trembled, the force of it running down his arms before he shook the sand from his hands and pulled them under his arms and screwed his mouth shut.

The world still raging outside, he forced himself to stop looking. Matt forced himself to block out the screams and focus for a minute on himself. He wasn’t any good to anyone like this.

Matt Murdock wasn’t good to anyone like this.

He had to shed this weakness. There was no time to overcome it. Forgetting the promises he’d made to Karen, Foggy, God, and countless memories of people long gone, Matt stormed out of the firm with one promise to himself and everyone: Until this was over- until he held his friends again and he could really say he answered the prayers of every confused mouth who cried out for some savior to deliver unto them an answer- Matt Murdock would be no more.

* * *

It was one week later, and Daredevil remained a fixed permanent fixture in Hell’s Kitchen. This face he’d changed into, reconstructed by Melvin Potter after Matt Murdock had helped him back onto his feet, had taken a new form in the eyes of every neighborhood. No longer was there a grey area in treatment of the vigilante with some people caught in the middle, unsure of Daredevil’s place in their town.

The contrast in treatment was stark from criminal to civilian and divided on those lines.

Maybe it had to do with the construction workers he’d helped to locate the blown transformer when the power grid went out. Maybe it had to do with his escort of a supply van almost raided by a local gang looking to control the limited resources in the kitchen. Maybe it had to do with the baby delivered from the Devil’s arms into those of an unwitting grandmother who hadn’t known the baby had survived the Snap until the poor thing had been on his own for two days.

The Snap- what a stupid name. What a ridiculous name.

What a stupid, ridiculous name for a travesty that had so thoroughly cut to the heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

That wasn’t right. It hadn’t just ruined his city, it had ruined the world. It had left it on a desperate, scrambling ledge. Everyone on that ledge, in their confusion, pushed and shoved at one another, which only served to cast a few more down below.

If Daredevil had to live on the cliff face to prevent them from getting lost, so be it.

The first few nights were all but officially dedicated to finding lost children. Their screams rang the loudest in the city, and they stung him the most when they caught his ears. Along with the baby he’d found, he had collected maybe fifteen more. He had to assume there were more, but they were old enough to find a neighbor or that there were people who knew to go looking for them.

He’d needed Maggie’s help finding homes for the infants, showing up at the church with a handful of documents he wasn’t sure would be of any help. In the end, he’d had to take her to the apartment he’d found the child to find anything actually of use.

“I thought you were dead,” she’d said after getting him the address. When he didn’t answer her, her voice begged him, “You can’t live like this.”

“Hell’s Kitchen can’t live  _ without  _ this.”

“The city needs Matt Murdock, too.”

“You need Daredevil more.”

She’d accepted that, though she didn’t say it aloud. Her silence was all the permission he needed as he took to the streets.

Now it was a different night and the panic was starting to die down. No one was happy, and no one was settled, but an unsteady peace was starting to set in for those looking for it. Matt knew it was just an eye in the storm. Not “the” eye, as that would imply it was half way over and that it would be the only stretch of peace, but “an” eye. He wasn’t stupid. It didn’t take a genius to know what happened to cities in the apocalypse. 

For all of New York’s heart, the state was a fragile system that depended on members of its community to thrive. Half of that community had disappeared, stolen away without rhyme nor reason. While he was taking some time to rest in the bowels of Clinton church, he’d heard a few of the nuns whispering about the end of times. They weren’t the first religious or nonreligious people he’d heard theorizing that this was just the rapture.

The thought had crossed Matt’s own mind in the middle of the day. That was late at night for him, as he couldn’t exactly sleep during the high crime hours and still call himself useful.

He’d almost bought into the idea that Foggy and Karen were some place beautiful while he’d been led away by some pied piper. Then he remembered the children without their parents and the people trying so desperately to keep this city alive, playing parts just like him.

Never again would he even entertain the idea that this had been God’s doing. If it was, it wasn’t the rapture. There was no sense behind what had been done here, and sense had been promised in those final days.

The government was slow with information, and even slower to provide help. The most they’d gotten was a rushed press release where whatever remained of the Avengers had given the world a handful of excuses layered with even more “that’s classified”s and of course that stupid name. Daredevil was two seconds from deafening himself if he had to hear “the snap” uttered from another pair of lips. 

Did whoever came up with that think it was funny? Did the Avengers, having failed so pathetically to protect the earth, think it would be easier to write off their loss if they slapped on some goofy phrase for the history books?

It was over that press release that he learned for the first time the connection between Karen and Foggy and the sand that had lined the floor. Their ashes.

He’d shaken with fury at the mental image, and Maggie had done him a favor by not mentioning the fact he’d nearly broken his hand on the stone walls of the church basement in his rage.

It would be two more days for him to get that worked up. Tony Stark had come back, and again, the Avengers had left to Avenge the world they’d already failed without so much as a call to anyone who might actually be useful.

They failed again, and it was the general consensus that everyone might as well get used to how things were because they’d given up hope. With that, so did most everyone else. Daredevil didn’t blame them.

If he could have seen the fall of a group like that- a respected group the world had placed so much faith in- he probably would have given up to and found some complacency. Maybe he would have come back as Matt Murdock, claiming he’d gotten stuck somewhere and amending whatever census currently said he was dead.

Then again, most people got scared at a lot of sights like that. Sights of athletes trying and failing to reach a goal or a massive fall that one should face if they failed when taking a leap.

In that respect, Daredevil was not most people. He didn’t have those sights to hold him back, and he certainly didn’t have any faith in the Avengers to lose. He didn’t have any admiration for them, and thus did not stand down just because  _ they  _ said it was pointless.

He’d hold this city together. He’d hold the world together if he had to.

If the idea of a God only brought woe and despair to those left behind, maybe a devil could give them some hope.


	2. Perfect Set

It took one more week- a full month since he’d lost Matt Murdock’s life- for Daredevil to realize he couldn’t live at the church full time. It wouldn’t take too long for people to realize the church an imposter Daredevil had attacked and then escaped from seemed to be at the heart of wherever the real one appeared in the city.

Not to mention, he was already a few days late on his testosterone. He wasn’t even considering where he’d go when he ran out. He could probably ask Maggie where Father Lantom had gotten the vials during his previous stay at the church.

Once he crawled in through his own window, his ears caught a strange noise from the door. A piece of paper was fluttering on the other side, caught in the artificial breeze of the vent over his door. He didn’t even have to open it up to know it was probably an eviction notice.

Part of him wanted to accept the inevitability that he would lose the apartment. Then he had to remember what Karen had gone through in his absence. He remembered what Karen  _ and _ Foggy had gone through to keep this place in his name.

He went to do his injection and lay in his bed. There he’d feign sleep while scheming on how he would continue to live and serve as Daredevil. He’d already learned he couldn’t just shove down these attachments in a vain attempt to live normally. Even if he could manage to brush off those feelings of letting down his friends by just giving up the space they’d worked so hard to maintain, he’d still need a place to live and to bleed when he got injured.

It wasn’t as though he was without the money to pay the rent, but he couldn’t access his own account without alerting the government that he was alive. Not that they would care- half of the world going with him- but all it would take is the wrong person mentioning money being pulled from his account and someone could put two and two together. Murdock goes missing but not dead, and Daredevil is still rolling around New York… it wasn’t likely, but just the kind of bad luck he needed.

That was exactly what he told Jessica when he showed up in her bedroom window in the early hours of the next morning. Well, he told her that after she stopped screaming and he caught the boot she threw at him.

“Oh my God,” she said in a hollow voice. The tremors faded from her hand as he finished his speech, and she shifted to sit on the edge of her bed rather than pressed up against the headboard. “You’re  _ alive? _ I heard that ‘devil suit guy’ was back, but- he- you’re  _ really  _ alive?”

He nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We were worried sick, you  _ piece of shit.” _ Her feet squeaked against the wood of her floor as she threw herself up from the edge of the bed, backing him against the wall as she spit out the words, “We waited outside of that building all night- Luke-” she swallowed as her voice dropped, “Luke  _ cried _ because of you.”

With her face just under his own, he breathed out, “I’m sorry, Jessica. I wasn’t myself when… I survived, but I wasn’t alive.”

Heat came off of her face as she flushed with anger.

“Idiot.” She turned around and stormed off to the corner of the room to put on some pants. “Go in the living room, take off that  _ stupid mask, _ and think of a better way to ask for a favor than leading with a bunch of bullshit about money.”

“It’s not bullsh-”

“Living room,  _ Murdock.” _

He bowed his head and paced to the door. There he fumbled with the knob until he could make a clear break for Jessica’s threadbare couch. He couldn’t tell by the texture through his suit, but rather the sound of the air whipping out of the cushion so that he could sink down into the worn material.

It was still the most comfortable he’d been since he’d taken to the streets. It wasn’t until he heard Jessica’s hand on her door knob he remembered what she’d said about his mask, and he scrambled to slip it from his head, which flew back as it popped free of the red helmet and left his sweaty face to finally breathe in the cold room.

He could imagine the grimace on Jessica’s face, though he could truly only know she had scoffed and looked away from him as soon as she walked into the room, immediately turning to kitchen cabinets.

“You look like shit,” she said.

It made him laugh. “I didn’t get to shower last night… they must have shut off my water a little while ago.”

“Right, before the eviction notice.” There was a sift as she pulled a bag of instant coffee from the cabinets and poured it into the machine. “You want some?”

“Not really.”

“Too bad, you’re having one.” She turned it on and started it, pacing back over to him with her hands on her hips. “Get out of that suit- I’ll ask Malcolm for some clothes. Some  _ real _ clothes.”

“I’m fine, Jessica, really. I just need your help with this one thing.”

“You  _ reek,  _ Murdock, and what you  _ need _ is a shower. Now, do I have to pick you up and throw you in the bath like a dog, or are you going to do it yourself?”

“I need to leave in the suit anyway,” the devil said. “Matt Murdock isn’t here, right now.”

Jessica bobbed where she stood at the counter. “Oh  _ really?” _ she asked in a fake voice, the corners of her mouth straining in a tight smile. It and her tone fell flat together. “Well, then you should get out of here because I don’t give a shit about Daredevil, and I don’t do favors for him.”

“Jessica-”

_ “No. _ Either you get out or you stay. If you stay, you are expected to shower, put on clean clothes that don’t smell like rotting meat, drink your coffee, and maybe I’ll listen to you and even do you a favor. Your choice.”

Swallowing, his hands fell into his lap, still clutching either side of the helmet. He held it tightly until he swung it onto the seat next to him with a sigh.

“Is your shower one of the knob ones or handle?”

Jessica Jones does not skip, but there was a light bounce in her step as she walked him to the bathroom. There she placed his hands on the knobs and waited by the door.

“I can do this part alone.”

“Says the guy who told me his life story while I was in my underwear.”

“Jessica,” he took a step to the side, cheating his body towards her, “please.”

Her arms remained firmly crossed, only sliding down her body when her shoulders fell with a sigh.

“Fine, but throw your suit out here as soon as it’s off. If you’re thinking of ditching me with a running shower, I want to know that you’re leaving here as a  _ naked Matt Murdock, _ got it?”

She left and closed the door behind her before he could confirm what she’d asked with a nod.

It peeled from his body like the second skin it was, his ankles almost raw from where his boots had been too tight for too long. From the pocket, he pulled an envelope that he then set on the back of the sink behind its handles.

He did as she asked, leaving the suit outside before locking himself inside and stepping into the shower. The cold water made him jump, and the white noise of its spray was deafening as it washed over his ears.

For him, it was like his head was underwater. Noise chimed in and out as he turned to either side and felt the oil drip from his skin. He mentally thanked Jessica for not being the kind of girl to favor an artificial strawberry or some other offending scent. Rather, the cheap soap was subtle as he lathered it on and left no odor behind when he’d finally wrung the last of it from his hair.

The temperature of the water had climbed to “almost-bearable” by the time he shut it off and wrapped the too-small towel hanging from Jessica’s wall around his waist. 

The door rattled in an attempt to open it, and there was a pause.

“You gonna make me break the lock on my own door, or are you going to open up and let me hand you some clothes?”

He prepared himself before unlocking it and leaning as casually as he could on her beat up sink.

She opened the door a crack, snaked her arm through to hand him the clothes, and he could tell there was something off about the way that she was breathing.

“Are you- are you turned  _ away?” _

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she grunted, shoving the clothes further into the room with her eyes still away from the door. “I didn’t wanna see you naked, I just wanted to hide your suit while you were in the shower. If you don’t want me to look that bad, I don’t have to.”

He nodded slightly. Only when he trusted his voice, he said, “Thank you.”

“Just take the stupid clothes!”

He laughed as he took them into his hands, setting them in the dry sink while she shut the door. Through that door, he called out to ask, “Did you tell  _ Malcolm  _ who I am?”

“You’re not Matt Murdock, remember?” she asked, leaning against the other side. “I didn’t tell him anything. Don’t worry. He pushes, but he understood this was a ‘Jessica Jewel’ thing, not a ‘Jessica Jones’ thing.”

“Jewel?” he asked.

“Not important,” she answered as she peeled herself away from the wood. “You want cream in your coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“Do you actually like cream in your coffee and you’re saying ‘no’ as a firm show of masochism, or..?”

He chuckled as he toweled the remaining water from his hair. “I don’t like cream, but I like sugar.”

“Sugar it is,” she mumbled in a voice that would probably be too low for anyone else to hear.

He sorted through the clothes, finding that she’d only provided him with a thick hoodie with some kind of sewn letters on the front- probably belonging to a college- and a pair of jeans. Frayed holes left his knees exposed, rubbing against his skin and making him walk a little stiffly as he reentered the living room.

“Much better,” she said. “I’m just glad that smell really was coming from your suit and not like- you. It really did smell like you were rotting in there.”

Matt considered making a joke that maybe he was before he realized how true that might be.

“Where is it?” he asked instead, though the question was unanswered as a warm mug was forced into his hands.

“You’re staying the night until I can find you a place to move into, I’ll give your suit to Danny and-”

“I don’t want Danny to know I’m alive.”

“Oh right, you’re telling Danny you’re alive, and then he’s going to take your suit and-”

“Jessica,” he set the mug on the counter. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. You’re really trying to take care of me, but I just need this one favor, then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”

“Well, if that’s what you’re promising, I’m not going to do your favor.”

“Jessica-”

“Stop saying my name. Are you Matt Murdock right now?” When he didn’t immediately say anything, she took a step toward him. “I’m only talking to Matt Murdock.”

“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, but only you can know that.”

“I’ll take it.” She turned to grab her own mug off the counter and took a loud, noisy sip from it. “Drink up. Luke’s bringing breakfast. Or-” she looked at the time- eleven o’clock- “I guess lunch?”

He spun around to follow her as she paced behind him. “They’re coming  _ now?” _

“Yeah, and I already told them you were here so that they’d know to bring something for you. Better to just stay here and explain yourself in one go.”

Matt huffed and followed her, standing in the threshold between her kitchen and living room as he asked, “What does Danny need with my suit?”

“He has one of his own.” Jessica fell onto her couch. “Got one after you died. He knows how to clean them. Maybe you can ask for some pointers.”

“I know how to clean it.”

“Doesn’t smell like you do.”

“I haven’t gotten the chance to in the place I was before.”

“Can’t clean it in the apartment you’re getting evicted from?”

“I wasn’t living in the-” He cut himself off, remembering what else she’d said. “I’m not living with you. I have a home, I just need your help keeping it.”

“Yeah,” Jessica said. “That’s what you said when I was half-asleep and you were perched up in my window like some horrid little cat man. How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“With this,” he pulled the envelope previously stored in his suit out of the hoodie pocket over his stomach. “It’s Matt Murdock’s will. He left everything to his girlfriend, Jessica Jones.”

Her hand thudded as it fell from her shoulder to her lap. “Are you serious?”

With a bright chuckle, Matt pressed the letter onto the kitchen counter next to him. “Deathly.”

“Not funny, jackass. What do you need me in your account for?”

“I’m already assumed dead, Jessica.”

“Just say you got like- lost on the streets in the chaos. Go to one of the rundown areas.”

“It’s been over a  _ month, _ Jessica.”

“So you got  _ really _ lost. It’s not like the bank will care, anyway! Plenty of people died at once, and a lot of people are bringing up that the city can’t just claim accounts for people who died in The Snap, so it’s not even like your money’s gonna just disappear if you don’t take it out or shove it off on someone else. You’re being paranoid, and that’s coming from  _ me.” _

_ “They _ might not care, but what about Fisk, or people in other positions of power who have their hand in the banks? I know he’s back in prison, but it won’t take long before he finds his way out in this mess. People who know the name Matt Murdock isn’t just that of a lawyer from New York but one intrinsically tied to Fisk and the Punisher- those people will be able to put the two together. That’s why I need you, Jessica. This is all I’m asking. Take my money- take some for yourself if you want- just give enough to my landlord for a few months.”

“What’ll you do then?” she asked. “What’ll you do? Will you come back when you run out of money? How are you going to eat? Are you stupid!?”

There was a knock at the door, and Matt kicked himself for not noticing that someone had been approaching sooner. He didn’t have to wait for Luke to ask, “Jessica?” in his deep, drowning voice for Matt to know it was him, just like he didn’t have to hear Danny at all. He only needed the scratch of Danny’s calloused fingers as they caught on his tie and the scent of Luke’s aftershave mixed with the familiar blend of deodorant and floral shampoo he knew belonged to Claire. 

That last part kept him rooted to the spot, weighing him with a wave of gratitude. He gave such thanks to his God, not having realized until that moment how glad he was that she’d apparently survived. How glad he was that Luke, Danny, and Jessica had all survived. They were good people, and they deserved to survive. They deserved more than that, really.

So did Karen and Foggy.

Jessica had opened the door and let them inside while he was frozen.

Though he was the first to enter, Luke approached the center of the room first. He did so calmly, his eyes trained on Matt though he dared not approach him first.

Then came Danny, not a step later. He paused long enough for Luke to stop at the end of the couch and for Jessica to close the door.

After that moment of pause, he rushed forward, arms stretched out to wrap around Matt’s frame. 

“You know,” he mumbled against the side of Matt’s head, “I’m not even mad. I feel like I  _ should  _ be mad, but I’m really not. I’m just happy you’re alive and that you trust us enough to come back to us as soon as you could.” He was either a great liar or genuine, and Matt still couldn’t tell when Danny crushed him a bit tighter and asked, “This is as soon ‘as you could,’ right?”

“Not entirely,” Matt grunted. He took in a deep breath when Danny let him go, Jessica tapping them between the shoulders as she came to stand between them.

He could feel the sharpness of her grin. “Like I said, we were worried.”

“I cried,” Luke chimed in from where he still waited by the couch.

Jessica gestured to him. “He  _ cried.” _

“But now, you’re alive, and you’re back, and we brought  _ Subway!”  _

“I’m not  _ back,” _ Matt said, shuddering as Jessica’s hand dragged up his shoulder when he stepped back toward the kitchen. His arms crossed over his chest, and he realized that he felt very naked. More than naked, he felt like he’d been stapled down to some autopsy table and that these supposed friends were ghouls looking to pry him open. “I’m… Look, I’m sorry for making anyone worry about me, I really am, but Matt Murdock still isn’t here.”

Luke’s head cocked to the side. “Is… is this about your ‘secret identity?’ If it is, unless Jess has got some new bugs around her house, I think you’re really good dropping the code.”

“Not a secret identity,” Matt said. “Not an identity anymore, really. Call me Matt if you want- if you think ‘Daredevil’ is stupid- but I’m not exactly living that life anymore.”

“You mean, since you survived the building that  _ fell on you?” _ Luke asked.

“No,” he said before really thinking about it. “I mean- I did, for a while. I said Matt Murdock was dead, and then I thought maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Then… a month ago…”

Danny’s shoulders fell, and he could hear all three of their hearts synchronize in their skipped beats. 

Luke’s picked up in a quick tempo as he mumbled out a quick, “I’m sorry, man.”

It seemed Danny was the only one brave enough to ask, “Who did you lose?”

Wallowing around the dryness in his throat, Matt finally answered, “The only family Matt Murdock had left. I thought it was right he went with them.”

“Let me stop you right there,” Jessica said, crossing between him and Danny to jab a finger at him. “That right there? That’s gonna stop. You’re going to stop, capiche? This whole ‘bury yourself with the past’ thing isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, and again, that’s coming from  _ me.  _ So stop it.”

“This isn’t a coping mechanism,” Matt said. “I’m not accepting what happened to them and just- just moving on. I’m getting them back. I’m getting them  _ all  _ back.”

“How are you going to do that?” Danny asked. “The Avengers just said-”

“Forget the Avengers,” Matt said. “They had their chance- they had  _ both  _ of their chances. I’m not just going to sit around and hope they get a third, especially since it looks like they’ve given up trying. I  _ need  _ to do this.”

“Where do you even start?” Jessica asked.

“I start here, in this city. I just- Hell’s Kitchen is my home. I need to make sure it’s fine and that it’ll stay together until I figure out how to help everyone else. Supplies are coming in through a bottleneck, and it’s obvious the hospitals are understaffed. There are food shortages because of the crop and livestock hits. Families are losing access to funds because the government is putting holds on accounts their loved ones are trying to drain before the banks can lock them out.”

Jessica let out a frustrated growl. “Then- Then lawyer up!? You’re a  _ lawyer,  _ did you forget that? You could like- represent those people in probate courts while they try to get their inheritances from people who didn’t make wills. You could work your way up and make cases that districts around here need more than the resources being given to them!”

“And what about the increase in crime? Traffickers are taking advantage of the large population of people not yet accounted for- the drug  _ and _ human traffickers. The former is preying on weaker people to get hooked on either buying or selling and the latter has gotten brazen enough to pick people out of their beds- I had to get a sobbing fourteen year old girl back inside with one hand and hold the man who took her out of her own bedroom window over the side of her fire escape. Do you  _ realize  _ that last night was the first time I’d been back at my apartment in a  _ month?” _

“And this is the place you want me to pretend to date you to keep?”

Luke picked his head up. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“He wants me to walk in and do the whole grieving widow routine just to get money out of his account to pay for his apartment.”

“I can pay for it!” Danny said.

Matt shook his head. “No thank you, Danny.”

“I can pretend to be your grieving boyfriend to pay for it with  _ your  _ money.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Jessica cut him off with, “No thank you, Danny.”

Luke was still stuck on the side of the couch. “We can help with the hero stuff. I can come up here, do my thing every once in a while. You know Jess and Danny are here- they haven’t left.”

“Then any time I’m not pouring into protecting the city is going to be spent tracking down leads on what exactly happened. We know it took place in Wakanda, but there’s still so little they’re not telling us. It’s about time we got names and answers past ‘aliens’ and ‘we failed.’”

“And you’re the guy to get those?” Jessica asked. “You’re crazy, and sleep deprived, and- and I don’t know what else- masochistic!? I think I said that earlier, can I say it again?”

“Please,” he said. “I just need you to do this.” He picked up the letter off of the counter. “I’ll do anything. If you want, we can eat together once a month so that you’ll know that I’m eating and that I’m not… dead.”

“You don’t get to joke,” she said, but calmed when Luke put a hand on her shoulder.

“Once a week,” he said. “Once a week, and you let us take on some of the crime drama around here.”

Jessica brushed his hand off as she spun around. “You can’t be serious.”

“You should know better than anyone else what he’s going through,” Luke mumbled, the bass of his voice causing his chest to rumble as he spoke. “He needs this.”

She turned to Matt. “He doesn’t  _ need _ this, he  _ thinks  _ he does- he  _ wants  _ this.” She stood inches apart from him, hands fastening to her hips. “It won’t help, you know. No matter how many people you won’t help, no matter how much time you take away from yourself, you’re still going to be Matt Murdock. You’re still going to have failed and whoever died will still be dead, but that’s okay because the world’s still spinning, and you _ can  _ live like that, but not like this. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.” And he paused, the letter still pressed to his chest. He ran his thumb along the edge of it carefully, the corner catching on his nail and bending a little before he offered it to her. “Please. Even if what you said is true, this is what I want.”

He heard her swallow- the stickiness of her words catching in her throat before she snatched up the will from his hand.

“Idiot. Where’d you even type this up?”

“I still had my laptop in my apartment,” he laughed. “Used a printer at the library.”

“In your devil suit?”

“They’d never let me in wearing that.” He chuckled and added, “I’ve been told it smells like a corpse.”

“Is that what that is?” Luke asked, his nose wrinkling.

“Where is it, anyway?” Matt asked. “I can smell it, but I can’t figure out where you put it.”

Jessica pointed upwards. Only then could Matt focus enough to feel the strange lump cutting through the air where it was tangled around the blades of her ceiling fan, his helmet resting on the hammock fashioned out of his suit’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Defenders: Together
> 
> Here's to hoping the Avengers Bashing doesn't throw anyone off- I just think Matt would have some Opinions that he'd like to share.


End file.
